


Countdown

by EtoilesJaunes



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Eating Disorders, Season 2 spoilers, also, also that's the cause for the rating?, and dealing with them, like not a general audiences thing but not 'mature' so, no romantic pairings or anything, that's like... basically all this is about, update: chapter revamp bc the new eps are life, update: no longer a one-shot, where tf did the normal Marinette and Adrien tags go? are they just... one tag now..., yeah. read at your own discretion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 05:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15902121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoilesJaunes/pseuds/EtoilesJaunes
Summary: Her father's the mayor, sure, but that doesn't mean that he's the only one with a job to do to stay there.In such a visible position, the whole family has to make some sacrifices.





	Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> Warning!!!!! Just in case you missed the tags, this is a fic about eating disorders. Don't read this if you know or think you can't handle it or will be triggered by this. Please stay safe <3
> 
> And yes, even pre-teens can have eating disorders, before someone says something about that.

“Chloé? Could you come in here, please?”

The girl in question perked up at the sound of her mother’s voice and quickly scampered into the living room, high ponytail swinging freely behind her.

“Yes, _maman?”_

Audrey put out a cigarette on the ashtray next to the couch. “Come sit with me, my darling.”

Chloé obediently hopped up next to her and leaned against her arm. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. There’s just something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” Her big blue eyes blinked up at her mother.

“Well, as you know, your father has a very important job,” Audrey started, pulling her daughter tighter against her.

Chloé smiled. “The owner of the best hotel in Paris!”

Audrey chuckled. “That’s right, Chloé. But now, he wants to try and get a different career. He wants to run for Mayor.”

“Papa wants to be the Mayor?”

“He does. He and I have talked a lot about this, and we believe it’s something he can do. But he needs the right support, especially from his family.”

Chloé was surprised she didn’t burst from the excitement in her veins at that. “I can help him?”

“Yes, Chloé. If your father runs, it means that he’ll have to have lots of pictures and videos taken of him. We have to stand together as a family and show that we support him.”

“We support him in pictures?” Chloé asked, confused.

“In a way. If we show that we are a perfect family, the press won’t have anything bad to say about us. It will help them focus on what a good Mayor your father will be.” Audrey took one of Chloé’s hands in her own and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

“So… I can help him by… Looking good?”

“That’s exactly right. Which brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re fine for a young girl, but soon, you’re going to have to change your eating habits. Those chubby cheeks aren’t going to look so good when you’re eight,” Audrey laughed, reaching up to pinch Chloé’s cheek to emphasize her words.

Chloé giggled, taking the situation as lightheartedly as her mother’s tone suggested it was. “Alright, _maman._ Is that it?”

“Almost. You know your friend, the one from the bakery?”

“Marinette, yeah!”

Audrey sighed. “You can’t have as many treats from her anymore. A few is okay, but don’t accept them every time you go over to play, alright?”

Chloé hesitated before nodding. “I can still be friends with her, though, right?”

“Of course you can. Now, run along. I’ve got some work to do.”

* * *

“What do you mean? I thought lemon honey cakes were your favorite.”

“They are, Mari, I just… Don’t want one right now.”

“Oh, okay,” Marinette said, but she still looked a little confused. “I’ll just leave it on the counter and you can come get it when you want it, okay?”

“Thanks, Marinette. You’re the best.”

An hour later, they were back in the kitchen.

“Please don’t tell my mom.”

* * *

When Chloé’s father was elected Mayor, she couldn’t have been prouder of him. His picture was in the paper for weeks.

And then, a month into his term, there was an article about the mayor’s family. There had been a couple before, while he was campaigning, but this was the first one published after the election. Somewhere in it, the author described Chloé as a ‘young girl with a wonderful opportunity as she grows into womanhood.’

Mothers everywhere read the article. _‘She’s just eight. Such a shame,’_ they thought to themselves, then looked at their own daughters with a smile, grateful that they’d never have to be under public scrutiny at such a young age.

Of course, the success of the election came with a lot more talks with her mother.

“Don’t forget to smile, Chloé.”

“Image is everything, Chloé.”

“What are those crumbs on your cardigan, Chloé?”

“...I’m sorry, _maman.”_

"This is ridiculous, Carlotta. Utterly ridiculous."

Chloé was ten years old when she and her mother first sat down with a dietician. He gave her a notebook to write down everything she ate that wasn’t prepared by her chefs. Every Saturday, they would analyze the amount of protein, fats, carbs, and sugars she was eating each week, as well as the calories coming from each.

She could feel her mother’s disappointment when she admitted to something she wasn’t supposed to have, but that didn’t stop Audrey from vocalizing it anyway.

* * *

Chloé looked down at the floor. It was better than the expression Marinette’s mother was giving her.

“Chloé, honey, when was the last time you ate?”

“I had lunch. And breakfast. I’m fine, Mme Cheng.”

“If you’re sure. Why don’t you go wait in Marinette’s room? I’ll send her up as soon as she’s done helping her father.”

“Thank you.”

Five minutes later, Marinette pushed through her trapdoor while Chloé was spinning in the desk chair. As soon as she stopped moving, the first thing she focused on was the plate of lemon and honey cakes in Marinette’s hand.

And how much she wanted one.

“Hey, Chloé! Sorry I’m late, Dad needed some help with the cupcakes.”

“That’s fine, Mari, don’t worry.”

When Marinette didn’t set the plate down, she started to worry.

“Here, _maman_ sent me up with these. Do you want one?”

Yes.

“No, thank you though.”

Marinette’s expression shifted slightly towards determination.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m still full from lunch.”

Marinette’s mouth twitched. “Okay. I’ll just leave them here.”

She set the plate right next to Chloé’s elbow.

“So, what do you want to do?”

Oh, God. She could smell them. But her mother’s face frowned at her from her mind’s eye and she stood up, walking as casually as she could to the chaise lounge. “I don’t know. Do you want to play that new game you got? Mecha Strike, or something?”

“Yeah, sure!” Marinette’s eyes brightened at that. “Let’s go downstairs and get it set up!”

Chloé tried to suppress a sigh when her friend picked up the plate and brought it down with them.

Marinette was a natural at the game and won the first three rounds. On the fourth one, though, Chloé got the controls right and was able to defeat Marinette’s bot at the last second.

“Oof, that was a close one,” the black-haired girl sighed, slumping against the couch. “Congratulations, though. I think a victory snack is in order.”

As Chloé found herself with one of the cakes in front of her face, she repeated three hundred and ten like a mantra in her head.

“I’d really rather not, Mari.” She took her friend’s wrist in her hand and pulled it away as gently as she could.

“Why? You used to love these.”

“I do, I’m just not hungry right now.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, the almost-sassy look on her face looking right at home on her eleven-year-old face. “I heard your stomach growling during the second round.”

If only she could stop _bringing it up,_ it might be more _bearable._

“You know what, Marinette? I don’t need them, and I don’t need you to keep saying that. _My_ mother isn’t trying to get me to eat more, and I think she’d know what’s better for me.”

“Chloé, I’m just trying to help.”

On a normal day, she might have stopped and apologized to her. But with all the tension and questions and _hunger,_ she snapped.

“Well, save it. I _don’t_ need your help. Shoving food in my face isn’t going to just miraculously _save_ me. If you really cared about me, you’d believe me when I say I’m fine.”

She hadn’t meant for _that_ much venom to leak into her voice.

Marinette set the cake back on the plate. She was staring at it instead of Chloé, but that didn’t mean the blonde couldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

“Maybe you should go.”

Chloé sniffed, straightened her back, and walked out of the room with her head held high.

She found herself at Adrien’s house. It was right down the street, after all, and she’d known him longer than she’d known Marinette. They weren’t as close, but he was still a friend.

“Oh, Chloé, I didn’t know you were coming over,” his mother said when she saw her at the door.

“Oh, we didn’t have plans. I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to know if he wanted to go grab some coffee with me?”

Emilie looked over her shoulder, back into the house. “I think he’s practicing his piano right now. Why don’t you come upstairs and wait until he finishes?”

Chloé put on her best smile. “Thank you so much.”

Half an hour later, she and Adrien were sitting in a small booth by the window of a nearby cafe. There was a mug of black coffee in front of each of them, and though it had raised a few eyebrows when they first started coming by a few months ago, the baristas were all used to them by now.

“So, was there anything you wanted to talk about?”

Chloé sighed. “I don’t know. I accidentally upset one of my friends today. It wasn’t _all_ my fault, though. I mean, everyone has something wrong, right? She has an awful temper, and I don’t ask _her_ to leave because of it. She was just being so _pushy,_ and I was so _hungry_ and I… I kind of yelled at her.” She was silent for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking at Adrien. “Does that make me a bad person?”

Adrien reached across the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “It’s fine, Chloé. As long as you both apologize, I think you’ll still be okay. I know the feeling, though. When I get like that, Nathalie just makes me practice my piano more. She says it’s supposed to be ‘calming’ or something.”

They both laughed at that, but both knew there wasn’t really anything funny about it.

* * *

The next day, her father had a meeting with the new chief of police. That’s when she met Sabrina.

“Oh, my gosh, you’re Chloé! I’m so excited to meet you! You know, when my dad said that you were my age, I couldn’t believe it. But we’ll be going to the same school this year — just two and a half weeks left until it starts!”

Chloé was overwhelmed, to say the least, at this girl’s enthusiasm. She didn’t let it show, though, instead plastering on a smile. “Oh, really? That’s cool. Do you wanna be friends?”

“Really? You mean it?” When Chloé nodded, the redhead all but burst with excitement. “That’s fantastic!”

When their parents excused them to grab something to eat from the kitchens, Sabrina didn’t comment on the fact that Chloé had two cups of ice water instead.

When school started and Sabrina noticed that Chloé wasn’t paying enough attention to take notes, she gladly shared hers.

When they saw Marinette and the feelings of guilt were too much for Chloé to handle, Sabrina followed when she turned and walked away, masking the tears in her eyes with irritation.

Chloé was grateful.

* * *

That November, a week after they returned to school from All Saints’ holiday break, her mother left on a trip to New York.

It took another couple of weeks before Chloé realized that when her mother said “I’m getting settled in here,” she didn’t mean it was a comfortable place for a vacation.

When she hung up a few minutes after her realization, her head was swimming. And not in the way that was normal.

_What happened?_

_What changed?_

_What did I do?_

From that moment, all the good memories she’d made with her mother started fading until she was remembered no other expression on her mother’s face than disappointment.

_“Why don’t you have the nonfat yogurt instead?”_

_“You had ice cream last week. Do you really need it again?”_

_“Image is everything. Never forget that.”_

_“You don’t want to let your father down, do you?”_

_"Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous."_

After a week of trying to avoid thinking about it too much (in which she was unsuccessful), she came to a conclusion, one that wouldn’t leave her alone: _She left because I wasn’t thin enough._

Of course, this came with an obvious solution: _She’ll come back when I look perfect._

Her birthday passed without her having any of the cake at the party. She was suddenly allergic to milk. Sabrina carried two water bottles with her at all times.

It was around the time that she could see her ribs that she understood it wasn’t going to bring her mother back. Audrey was happy in Milan.

Her mother was happy without her.

“Sabrina?” Her voice wanted to be timid, but she forced it to be full of the confidence she normally had. It was okay that her mascara was running; it’s not like her friend could see it through the telephone.

“Yes, Chloé?”

“I need you to do something for me.”

Twenty minutes later, Sabrina was at Chloé’s door with a box of twelve honey lemon cakes from the Tom & Sabine Boulangerie-Patisserie. She sat outside a locked door, listening to her friend’s tears muffled only by the sound of chewing.

When Chloé opened the door, Sabrina was waiting with a hug and a shoulder to cry on.

And Sabrina patiently ran her fingers through Chloé’s messy blonde hair as she kneeled over the toilet, wiping her forehead with a cool washcloth every now and then.

Chloé was grateful, and on Monday, Sabrina was wearing a brand-new skirt.

* * *

When they were thirteen and Adrien’s mother disappeared, she showed up at his house in record time. She didn’t want him going through any of what she went through.

But the man who opened the door said they weren’t taking visitors.

“No, not even you, Mlle Bourgeoise. I’m sorry.”

* * *

Chloé was looking forward to the end of her father’s term as mayor. When he announced that he was running for re-election, she locked herself in her room for a week. She only came out when Adrien called to tell her that his father was going to let him attend her school.

 

But then, he started siding with _her._ And hanging out with _them._ And talking to everyone else in the entire school. At least that’s what it felt like.

She thought he understood. Why didn’t he understand now?

She was trying to be nice, really. But she was also just doing what her mother had taught her to do. She just wanted her mother to be happy with who she was.

 

She thought it couldn’t get any worse.

But she’d recognize the woman getting out of the limo in front of the hotel anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [Tumblr](https://www.etoilesjaunes.tumblr.com) for more! <3


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